The Journey Home
by yumi michiyo
Summary: Christmas means many things to many people, especially to the eighteen girls of the combat revues... A multi-themed collection of oneshots centering on each of the Kagekidan members.
1. One: Shinguji Sakura

_December 25__th__, 1920 (Taisho 9)_

Sakura wondered why her mother looked particularly withdrawn that day. It was an unremarkable winter's day like all others to her; the melting frost a sign spring was coming.

Spring – the most beautiful season, the season of sakura blossoms, her namesake. The old tree in the garden never failed to produce sweet-smelling flowers in abundant quantities. The blossoms had been especially fragrant the year she was born, her mother had told her; they had named her for it because of that.

Her grandmother was as stern as always and Sakura knew she was not going to get any clues from her. Gonji was of no help, changing the conversation to her sword training or the weather.

On a rare outing to the nearest town – her ancestral home in rural Sendai was still remote from the wave of modernisation sweeping Japan – to help Gonji with the shopping, she saw lights arranged over the store. "Look, Gonji!" she laughed, tugging on his sleeve. "They're over the board – and there're wreaths! And toys! What's the occasion?"

"It is Christmas Day next week, Sakura-oujou-sama," answered the elderly manservant.

"Kurisumasu?" she repeated, dragging out the unfamiliar syllables.

"Yes, it is a Western holiday brought to Japan some time ago. On that day, families gather for dinner and exchange presents."

"How'd you know so much, Gonji? And why didn't Okaa-sama and Obaa-sama say anything about it?" She had a mental image of the four of them seated around a table, Western-style, surrounded by gaily-wrapped presents of multiple colours.

He hesitated momentarily. "We do not really celebrate Western holidays – your grandmother does not approve."

Sakura's face fell. "I see..."

"But that is not to say, the master did not try." Gonji's eyes creased as he smiled. "Why, he brought back a little tree one year when you were a little girl, and he wrapped souvenirs in fancy paper and arranged them underneath it – all that time in the capital was a bad influence, no doubt."

"Otou-sama did?" She frowned, trying her best to remember. Hazy memories, interspersed with clear images here and there. "But I don't remember any gifts from him..."

Gonji looked away. "Ah, it is getting late! We must hurry home before your mother and grandmother worry, Sakura-oujou-sama."

* * *

After dinner, Sakura approached her mother and bowed. "Okaa-sama, may I ask you a question?"

"What is it, Sakura-san?"

"Gonji told me that Otou-sama celebrated Christmas with us once – it sounds like such a nice tradition. Why don't we keep it going, even though..." She left the statement hanging, not wanting to complete it. Saying it made her father's death seem so final, as though he was no longer watching over the family.

Her mother's face was perfectly unemotional. "Your father is no longer with us, therefore your grandmother and I saw no reason to continue that tradition. Furthermore, there is no reason in observing a Western custom."

"But – "

Wakana stood up. "It is late. You should prepare for bed, Sakura-san. It will be the new year soon; your grandmother wishes to see development in your training."

She opened her mouth to speak – and closed it, thinking the better of talking back. "Yes, Okaa-sama," Sakura answered, bowing low.

* * *

The next day, she set off on her mission. Most of Shinguji Kazuma's things had been stored away neatly, as though their owner would be coming home any day but her father's room betrayed no personal touch. Her enquiries turned up nothing; Gonji, sensing he had said too much, refused to comment further on the matter.

"What's Christmas like in the capital, Otou-sama?" she asked the black headstone in the family gravesite. "Is it like the store in town, but bigger and more colourful? Does everybody give presents to everybody?" Sakura rested her chin on her knees. "... Why won't Okaa-sama say anything about it?"

She stared at the carved kanji in silence.

Further cajoling and coaxing had squeezed the exact date of Christmas Day out of poor Gonji. "December 25th by the Western calendar, Ojou-sama," sighed the defeated old man. "Now will you please let me have some peace?"

"The 25th?" Sakura went into her father's room to retrieve a book to check the date. "... That's tomorrow!" It spurred her back into her quest with new zeal; to find any trace of Christmas in the Shinguji household.

She wondered why this newfound obsession with Christmas had started as she went through the storage room in the back of the house. It certainly was not the presents, or the tree that fascinated her; Sakura wondered why she could not remember her father with these things. Surely such a momentous celebration with him and the rest of the family would have been engraved into her memory as one of the few she had of him?

"Gyaaah!" Lost in her thoughts, she tripped over a box and fell flat on her face. "Owowowow... that really hurt... Hmm?" The young girl opened one eye. Tucked in one corner of the room, hidden behind a set of boxes was a dusty bundle of cloth she did not remember seeing before.

A quick check around to make sure nobody was there, and she pulled out the bundle, coughing as it dislodged at least a few years' worth of dust. Sakura's fingers easily undid the knot on top and the bundle fell open.

Inside were old photographs; formal ones taken in a photography studio. She barely recognized a young Kazuma standing with a solemn couple; the woman bore a resemblance to her grandmother.

Her father's family, a generation ago.

Another photograph showed her parents in traditional wedding attire; her mother, a demure bride in her white uchikake next to her smiling father, handsome in his stiff haori. Sakura smiled, tracing the faces with a finger.

One more was her father in uniform, smiling with three other people. She laughed aloud at the older man in front pulling a silly face. Her father's old comrades, she guessed, the Tai Kouma Butai that had protected the capital.

The last took her breath away; herself as a baby in her father's arms. The smile captured on his face was not the same as in the previous photographs; the man in the picture was completely unaware of the camera, smiling tenderly down at his newborn daughter. Sakura's breath caught in her throat.

"Otou-sama..."

The photograph was lovingly wiped of dust before being laid aside; Sakura turned her attention to the rest of the bundle's contents. A writing brush, a carved netsuke in the shape of a stag's head, a pin bearing the Imperial Army's insignia. All these objects had been her father's treasures in life – now his daughter reverently handled each one in turn.

Clearly her mother had hid all these things away when her father died; the memories must have been too painful. Sakura understood why she had not said anything when she had asked her.

There was nothing else left in the bundle. She took special care to arrange everything the way she had found it, lingering a moment over the photograph of her father and herself. As Sakura pulled the cloth back up, her fingers found another smaller lump tucked away in one of its folds.

She took out the squarish object and held it up to the light; patterned paper, held in place by a shiny ribbon that caught the light as she moved it. Sakura drew a sharp breath.

"Presents..."

Attached to the top was a crinkled label yellowed with time. Her father's neat characters stood out from the paper: '_For Sakura_'

Excitement rushed in her chest. "A Christmas present... from Otou-sama..." Carefully, so as not to tear the beautiful paper, Sakura removed the wrapping the reveal a small brown box. Lifting the lid, she found a single object lying in the bottom; leather fingerless gloves, still smelling faintly of polish.

She took one out. The material was still a little stiff and new, but had a soft texture from being polished. They were the perfect size for her.

"Otou-sama..." It became clear. The gift had been intended for her years after Kazuma had bought it; clearly, he had regularly polished it in preparation for the girl who would grow into a warrior. Tears filled her eyes; Sakura dabbed them away with her sleeve.

"... Happy Christmas, Otou-sama..." She tucked the gloves away into the box, slipping it into the folds of her kimono before stowing the bundle back where she had found it.

Someday, she would be worthy of her father's sword and earn the right to continue his mission, protecting the capital he loved so much, and she would go fearlessly into battle wearing her father's present.

As she slipped outside and down the corridor, two pairs of eyes watched unnoticed.

"Sakura-san is growing up faster than we imagined," said Wakana softly.

The old lady beside her nodded. "She is fulfilling her destiny. The blood of the Shinguji family runs strong in her."

Sakura's mother bowed her head, fighting the tears that threatened to come.


	2. Two: Kanzaki Sumire

_December 25__th__, 1913 (Taisho 2)_

The little girl woke early on Christmas morning, getting dressed eagerly. Today was a special day; one of the maids had told her that if she made a wish in a church on Christmas Eve at midnight, her wish would come true today.

Sumire could barely wait to spend the day with her parents – it was well worth evading all her caretakers to sneak into the church to make her wish the night before. Following that, she had lain awake in bed, finally nodding off close to dawn.

Digging in her closet, the little girl carefully took out a beautiful violet dress she had saved for this occasion. IN the shop, everyone had admired her, saying how pretty she looked in it; Sumire wanted her parents to see for themselves. Kneeling on the chair in front of the mirror, she brushed her hair again and again.

Everything had to be perfect for this special day.

Finally, she jammed a headband onto her hair and flung open the door. The sound of her feet was mostly lost in the wide corridors of her palatial family mansion.

"Otou-sama! Okaa-sama!" she shouted, throwing open the double doors of the sitting room. "Happy Christmas!"

Silence greeted her. Underneath the towering Christmas tree specially imported from overseas sat the usual glittering mound of presents; a fire crackled in the hearth. The table nearby held sweets and edibles, a mixture of traditional Western food imported for the occasion and Japanese treats like rice crackers.

A creamy envelope rested next to the bowl, positioned where she would be able to see it.

Wordlessly, Sumire picked it up and slit it open. The letter inside was brief, written as simply as possible for her six-year-old reading skills.

_Dearest Sumire, _

_Happy Christmas. Otou-sama and Okaa-sama regret we cannot be here to celebrate today with you because Otou-sama has unfinished work at the Tokyo head office and Okaa-sama has to finish her filming work before the new year. Enjoy your presents._

_From Otou-sama and Okaa-sama_

Tears filled her eyes; Sumire sniffed and rubbed furiously with the sleeve of her brand-new dress. Every year as long as she could remember, it had been the same; they were never around.

The maid had lied; Christmas wishes did not come true.

Ignoring the pile of presents, Sumire walked slowly back to her room and opened the lower drawer of her desk; inside, tucked away underneath a pile of paper, was a bundle of letters; each one filled with apologies. Memories of lonely birthdays and holidays preserved in her parents' neat handwriting – reminders they existed, hovering on the edge of Sumire's life.

She burrowed in under the covers, not bothering to take off her headband, and cried herself to sleep.

* * *

"Why are you here, Shigeki?" The grizzled old man blinked in surprise at the sight of his son pottering in the factory, bent over some blueprints. "It's Christmas Day. Go home – spend some time with my granddaughter."

The younger man pushed his spectacles further up his nose. "Otou-sama, we need to finish the designs for the new steam tractor before the new year. We cannot afford to lose this client."

The Kanzaki patriarch harrumphed. "And Hina? Is she busy too?"

Shigeki slowly rolled up the blueprint. "She is back in Yokohama, wrapping up work on her latest movie and will be back in time for the New Year's celebration if the trains are not crowded."

"How long has it been since you last saw Sumire? Since you actually spent time with her?"

"Please, Otou-sama. It's not that I want to be working – but..." He fell silent for a moment. "... We've asked the maids to buy her the latest toys and children's books. It's not as though she'll be lonely."

The old man nodded ponderously. "If you say so." As he turned and began to walk away, he called over his shoulder, "Don't regret this decision you're making one day when your daughter can no longer look you in the eye, Shigeki."

Sumire's father unrolled the blueprint and picked up a pencil, but no more was written that afternoon.

* * *

_December 24__th__, 1927 (Taishou 16) _

"Maa, I'm too full t'do anythin' now," sighed Kohran happily.

"Me too," chimed in the young French girl.

"Come on, you only had a piece of cake each!" Kanna forked the last piece off her plate into her mouth. "Whoa, there's still this much left? Reni, do you mind?"

The German smiled. "Since none of us can finish it, it would be a waste if you did not eat it, Kanna."

Orihime sniffed. "Honestly, that's your third piece of cake, Kanna-san. I wonder where you put it all."

"Once everyone's done eating, please sleep early. The special Christmas performance is tomorrow night and I want you all to get a good night's sleep," called Maria over the chatter.

"Iris doesn't want to sleep early!"

Kanna pulled a face. "Aw, come on Maria – it's Christmas Eve! We've just celebrated Reni's birthday, we should do something fun, right, Taichou?"

Ogami laughed. "I'm afraid Maria's right – we've got a big day tomorrow, what with the Christmas show, and the presents in the morning."

Iris clapped her hands together excitedly. "Presents, presents!"

"What noisy children," sighed Sumire loudly. Secretly, she watched their excited faces with a pang of jealousy; it would be the first Christmas show she would be performing in, having retired from the theatre a few months earlier. The only reason why she was even in the theater at all was because she had been expressly invited to Reni's 18th birthday celebrations and to stay over for Christmas. The young woman pulled out her fan, languidly flicking her wrist in idle motions.

Sakura noticed and drew closer. "Sumire-san..."

"Sakura-san, as the lead, you must put on the most dazzling performance of all!" She snapped the fan shut and pointed it at the startled girl. "If you dare trip and fall, I'll never forgive you!"

"Y – yes!"

Maria's instructions were right, as always; slowly, the Hanagumi began to disperse. As Sumire glanced at all the disappointed faces, a memory from long ago, of a maid telling a rapt little girl about Christmas wishes surfaced...

"Wait, Maria-san, I have a suggestion."

When Sumire had finished talking, excited clamouring from all the other girls was enough to make the Vice-Captain give in and tell them to wrap up warmly and meet outside the theater doors. The Hanagumi made their way to the church, laughing and joking excitedly.

A hush fell over them as they entered the empty building; they stood in front of the altar and waited.

The deep tones of the bells chiming the twelfth hour began and each girl bent their head and closed her eyes.

As soon as the twelfth chime died away, the spell was broken and the air rang with cries of, "Happy Christmas!", soon followed by some of the foreign-born girls teaching each other how to say it in their native languages.

"Wait, what?" Kanna exclaimed. "Say it again!"

"_Fröhliche Weihnachten_," repeated Reni patiently.

"_Joyeux Noël_," smiled Iris.

"_Buon Natale_!" declared Orihime.

"_S Roždestvom Khristovym_," said Maria.

"圣诞快乐," grinned Kohran.

"That gorilla woman's going to bite her tongue," noted Sumire snidely.

"Frow-lee-sher – _ow_!"

"Sure enough..."

Amidst the happy commotion that ensued, followed by many valiant attempts at mangling the languages, Ogami touched Sumire's arm.

"What did you wish for, Sumire-kun?"

She took her time to answer before smiling at him. "I didn't need to make a wish, Chuu'i."

He – as she knew he would – smiled in understanding, squeezing her shoulders.


	3. Three: Maria Tachibana

_September 7__th__, 1911 (Meiji 44)_

_Kiev, Ukraine_

"Mama?"

The blonde woman smiled at her daughter. "What is it, Maria?"

"Why does Papa look so different?"

Katrina Tachibana bit her lip. She should have been expecting it someday soon, really; it was plain to see how different her dark-haired, brown-eyed husband was from the Russians. Both she and her daughter were blonde with piercing green eyes – as were most of the people in the streets of Kiev.

"Well, little one, Papa comes from a land far away from here, across the ocean, called Japan." She continued chopping vegetables as she spoke. "His emperor sent him here to make friends with us."

The daughter of the ambassador had been struck by the tiny, soft-spoken man the moment he introduced himself in flawless Russian. They had began a love affair soon after and to marry him, she had given up friends, family and home.

Daisuke – and a number of years later, little Maria – was all she had in the world now, and she could not be happier.

To escape her father's anger, they had fled together far from Petrograd, to the city of Kiev. Far enough from her family's reach, yet busy enough so Daisuke could continue working without attracting too much attention from the locals. He was a city man through and through; Katrina doubted her husband could last long in the harsh Northern wilderness.

A crunching sound outside distracted Katrina from her memories. "Papa's home!" said the little girl excitedly, running to the door.

Daisuke, red from the cold, stood heavily wrapped up in a greatcoat with a bulging sack in the snow beside his feet. His wife stifled a laugh in her apron as he put it down to pick up his daughter. "I will never get used to seeing you like that," she quipped, mischief in her eyes.

He laughed. "To be honest, wife, when I signed up for the diplomatic service fresh out of the academy, I did not expect to end up married to the most beautiful girl in Russia."

Maria ignored them, her eyes fixated on the sack. "What's in there?"

"Food, child." Daisuke addressed his wife as he bent to open it. "Andrei was most generous with distributing the surplus stock this evening – and there were few customers. I think we shall have enough for a week or two."

She nodded. "And what news in town?"

The man's face darkened briefly. "... Maria, child. Would you please go play in your room for a moment?"

"Yes, Papa."

He moved forward, touching Katrina's arm. "The communists are blaming the state of the country on foreigners," he said in a low voice. "Andrei told me a party was seen a few days from here, though they are only coming to gather supporters."

Katrina gasped. "We must flee – they will kill you if they see you!"

"We will not." His eyes flashed. "It is fortunate Maria takes after you. If they come here, you will take her, and go back to Petrograd, to your father."

"We are not leaving you behind!"

"You must!" Daisuke gently squeezed his wife's hands. "If they were to find us all, they will surely kill you and Maria as well."

She bowed her head, holding back tears.

* * *

After dinner, Daisuke called for Maria. "A present for you, little one," he said with a smile, presenting her with a small pouch. A tiny wooden plaque hung from it by a woven silk cord.

She took it carefully in her hands, recognizing it to be a treasure; the delicate, exotic nature of the material suggested it came from the same faraway place as her father. "Papa, it's beautiful! What is it?"

He turned the piece of wood over, showing her carved kanji. "A good luck charm from a temple in my hometown, Maria."

"Where?"

"Tokyo, in Japan... the imperial capital. Perhaps you and Mama and I will go there someday." Daisuke blinked and gently eased the drawstring of the pouch away from her fingers.

"Never open the pouch – it contains a spirit that will protect the owner. My father gave it to me many years ago and now I give it to you, child."

"Thank you, Papa!" She flung her arms around his neck – at eight years of age, her arms already long enough to encircle it.

"You have grown up so fast," he said affectionately.

* * *

_March 20__th__, 1917 (Taisho 6)_

_Kiev, Ukraine_

Daisuke arrived home in a flurry, eyes wide with panic. "Katrina! Maria! Pack your things, we must leave!"

Fourteen-year-old Maria poked her head out of the sitting room. "What is it, Papa?"

"Petrograd has fallen to the socialists, the Tsar has abdicated. The soldiers are coming to Kiev, you must go!"

"We are not going anywhere without you, Daisuke!" The Russian woman, her blue eyes steely, strode out of the kitchen. "Or do you discard our promises to each other?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose; the Japanese man was greying prematurely at the temples. "I do not, my wife. But if it will keep you and Maria alive, then I will."

Katrina softened. "We will leave here," she said quietly. "But we will not leave each other." She turned to Maria. "Pack some things, child. Only the most important things."

"Mama – "

" – and hurry. We must not lose a moment."

Bundling herself in her favourite coat, Maria stuffed the little pouch into her shirt.

* * *

_March 29__th__, 1917 (Taisho 6)_

_Odessa Harbour, Ukraine_

"Safe passage to America for three," muttered Daisuke, his face heavily muffled in a scarf.

"That will be six thousand rubles, comrade."

He cursed, fumbling in his pocket for the notes. Counting the sheaf of currency, he thrust it into the bearded man's hand.

"Very well," said the sailor, after counting the money. "Board this ship here, tonight at midnight. Hide yourselves in the lifeboats. If you are caught, I know nothing. _Da_?"

"Understood."

Daisuke returned to his family behind the port building. "We have passage, tonight."

"Where are we going, Papa?"

He rested a hand on her shoulder. "America, child, the land of freedom. We will be safe there."

"So Comrade Beketov was right," interrupted a gravely voice from behind them.

"And not stone drunk on the cheap vodka as he always is," added another voice.

The little family whirled around. Men in army-issued greatcoats stood there carrying rifles. Their leader, an impressively bearded man, carried an old sabre.

"A foreigner and his family. Living off the wealth of Mother Russia together with the cursed Romanovs. Thought fleeing to America would spare you and your blasted family their fates?"

Daisuke moved in front of the women, arms spread protectively. "Let them go and I will go with you quietly."

"Daisuke – !"

"Katrina, please, now is not the time."

The leader's face darkened. "Think you would bargain with us, filthy Jap? Take them all."

Maria's eyes flashed fire. "Don't touch my Mama and Papa!" Darting forward, she seized a pistol from the holster of the nearest man and brandished it, the way she had seen the soldiers in the harbour do it when the family had been in hiding. When they had done it, things had gone their way without fail.

Early in life she had learned death was power.

The bearded man burst out laughing. "So you would kill us all if we did not obey, little one?"

"Just let them go," she repeated, her voice trembling.

One leering soldier took a step forward – and hastily withdrew his boot as a shot rang out over the flagstones, leaving a neat indentation where his foot has previously been.

The man stopped laughing. "_Nu, e chort staboy_ – where did you learn to shoot like that, girl?"

Her chest heaved from the recoil of the gun – Maria was not about to reveal that years before, the day she had overheard her parents talking about the soldiers, she had found her father's old service revolver and had been practicing with it. Her father, though, understood what she had done and looked away.

"Eh, she would be a useful comrade, would she not, Dmitri?" One of the soldiers patted the leader's shoulder. "A little more training and she would be a fine sniper for the Revolution."

"... Yes." He barked orders at his men. "Take away the other two. You, girl, come with me."

"Papa! Mama!"

Her father broke away from his captors and went to her. "Maria, child, take care of yourself." He touched her coat where he knew the pouch hung. "The spirit will continue to watch over you."

"Papa!" The burly leader's arms were the only thing keeping her from running after them.

"Be strong, Maria!" managed Katrina.

"Mama!"

They wrested them away, still struggling. "We'll meet again someday in Tokyo, Maria!"

Tears streamed down Maria's face as she watched her parents disappear from sight in the mist.

"What is your name?"

She looked away and refused to answer.

Her captor spun her around roughly. "Answer me!"

Maria remained obstinately silent, fixing him with an icy glare. With a growl, the man raised his hand to slap her – and paused when his wrist was caught in an iron grip.

"Violence will solve nothing, Comrade Molchaoff – as I have often mentioned." The speaker was a newly-arrived soldier in sunglasses.

Molchaoff spat. "Pfeh! You may be one of the youngest captains, Kazapov, but that doesn't give you jurisdiction over – "

" – Odessa Harbour is my designated area," cut in the captain firmly. "You were trespassing over my jurisdiction, Molchaoff. I was not in time to save the parents, but you shall not have her. I know that young girls have been disappearing in your ward – unsympathetic to our cause and otherwise."

He flushed crimson. "You have made an enemy today. One day, you will reap what you sow. Men, move out!"

Then Maria was left alone with the captain.

"Don't be afraid, child," he said, dropping to one knee. "You're safe now."

She sniffed – and hastily stopped. Maria hated her helplessness, hated the fact she was a young woman of fourteen and still unable to hold back her emotions. Her fear betrayed her, made the soldiers mock her and take her parents away.

"My name is Yuri. What's yours?"

A small hesitation. "Maria Tachibana."

"Pleased to meet you, Maria." He stood up. "I don't have much to offer, but you can stay in my barracks for the time being." Yuri's face turned serious. "But allow me to say this. We fight for a noble cause, nobler than scum like Molchaoff represent. We fight for freedom. Your talents would be wasted as a peasant girl, to be frank. Would you consider joining our cause and becoming a soldier for the Revolution?"

Maria clutched the precious pouch under her coat. She would survive this and grow strong, and then she would kill him and the other soldiers.

And then she would go to Japan and find them again.

"... Yes, sir."

* * *

_June 19__th__, 1920 (Taisho 9)_

_New York City, America_

"Because Tokyo is a very important city for us."

Maria eyed the woman carefully, taking in every syllable of her deliberately enunciated English. After losing Captain Yuri in the final days of the Revolution, she had come, in search of that freedom her father had talked about.

She smiled bitterly. Becoming a hired gun for the Mafia had not been her idea of freedom.

"Is that all?" she asked. The woman gave a start. "You must have another reason for wanting to save the city." Jaded green eyes stared back almost defiantly.

The woman – Maria dimly remembered her being called Ayame Fujieda – took a moment to respond. "I have lots of memories of the city."

"Lots of memories?"

"Yes."

Maria turned away. She detected pain in the woman's voice – the loss of someone close. Memories not as pleasant as her words suggested; memories one would travel great lengths to escape.

"... In that sense, I can understand. I also have..." Maria looked up at the sky, lost as she allowed the memories to return freely.

Going to Japan, after all she had been through... she had grown and aged so much in only three years. Maria had accepted the fact of her parents' deaths long ago; they were never going to be waiting for her in Tokyo, under the city lights.

"... Goodbye, my memories," she murmured in Russian.

Maria turned back to Ayame. "When do we leave for Japan? It would be – _difficult_ – for me to go immediately..."

She looked momentarily taken aback but recovered quickly. "I understand. It will not be a problem – we will settle your ties with the Mafia." Ayame stood up. "There will be a ship in the harbour for Tokyo in November."

As she turned to leave, she paused. "... Happy birthday, Maria."

The sound of her footsteps receded, leaving the Russian alone with the simple words; remembering precisely how long ago it had been since she had last heard them.

* * *

_December 25__th__, 1920 (Taisho 9)_

_Tokyo Harbour_

The ship's horn resounded; three long blasts. Maria looked up from her text book. Calmly, she closed it, slipping the volume into an open suitcase and leaving behind the immaculate room.

Today was the first day of the rest of her life.

The harbour was just as bustling as Odessa had been all those years ago, except she was no longer that frightenened girl clutching the heavy gun. Maria had grown beyond her. People, dark-haired and eyed like her father, thronged the streets, chattering in that tongue she had laboured to learn.

She hesitated on the gangplank for a moment. Was it finally time to leave it all behind?

"Maria."

For one moment, the Russian girl saw the familar figures of her parents waiting for her at the bottom. Her heart leapt; they had kept their promise.

Then the illusion shattered, leaving the kindly faces of Ayame and another man there, both in green uniforms.

"It is good to see you again, Maria," said Ayame in English. "This man is General Ikki Yoneda."

"Pleased to meet you," she answered in flawless Japanese. "I am Maria Tachibana."

The man grinned widely. "Well, I'm glad you went to such trouble to learn Japanese, though it is a pity especially after Ayame-kun spent ages learning English."

"General!"

"So why don't you come with us and I'll brief you on what's going to be happening. I'm afraid the theatre hasn't been finished yet, so maybe you'll come stay with me – "

"General Yoneda!"

Maria allowed him to take her suitcase. He reminded her of her father – though the new Maria would rather die than reveal anything that might betray her someday. It was a flaw, a weakness; to be eliminated.

But this was new Maria, determined to make something worthwhile of her life. And maybe she would manage to protect something precious this time.


	4. Four: Iris Chateaubriand

_December 25th, 1921 (Taisho 10)_

_Champagne, France_

Iris sat mutely on her bed clutching Jean-Paul as heaps of presents sat, unopened, on the table in front of her. "Merry Christmas, Jean-Paul," she whispered into the stuffed bear's ear.

* * *

"This is outrageous, Father!" The tall man banged his fist on the table. "It's Christmas Day and we aren't even allowed to see our daughter?"

Henri Chateaubriand watched calmly. "Conduct yourself, Robert, as befits the heir to the estate. I don't like this any more than you do, but we have no choice." Veined knuckles wrapped around the head of his staff. "None have been born in so long, I had hoped..." The patriarch's voice trailed off before resuming. "The family curse has returned."

"Father – "

"I find it almost laughable that you even dare stand here and plead with me. Do you remember what happened the last time you and Marguerite broke into that room _without my knowledge nor consent_?"

The slight-built woman spoke up for the first time. "That – that was not Iris' fault. We startled her, and – " She stopped talking when Robert rested a hand on her arm.

"Shameful! You, Lord and Lady Chateaubriand, members of the flower of French nobility, stooping to such vile, _common_ deeds!" He leaned back into his chair, breathing heavily from the outburst. "You are dismissed, the both of you."

"Father – "

"Do not make me repeat myself." Rising from his chair, the old man poured himself a shot of cognac. "This audience is over."

"Think ill of me as you wish," called the old man as they left. "Remember everything I do is for the good of our family."

The young woman was deathly pale as she and her husband exited the drawing room. "Oh, poor Iris... locked up all alone in that dungeon," she sobbed.

Robert put an arm around her thin shoulders. "What can we do, Marguerite? I am truly sorry you married into this cursed family!"

"Don't say that, Robert, please." Her china-blue eyes, the exact same shade as her only daughter's, flashed. "I will not be separated from Iris. Curse or no curse, she is still my daughter."

"It's not as though we'll never see her again," tried her husband, attempting to ease her worry. "When she is older, she will be able to control her powers and come live with us again – "

Marguerite rounded on him. " – with the parents that locked her away in the first place?" Her face crumpled. "I – I can barely stand the thought of it; my poor girl, alone and frightened in that dungeon..."

His face softened and he reached out to touch her hand. "It is too cruel – we are living in an enlightened age of steam. Flying machines, weapons of war, miracles of science and medicine... is there nothing, no one who can help poor Iris?"

* * *

To pass the time, Iris made her presents fly around the room in wild circles. She furrowed her brow, concentrating so they would not collide on their erratic flight paths.

The knock that came on the heavy wooden door startled her so badly, all the presents fell into a jangled heap amid crunching sounds of landing.

"Iris?"

"Who are you?" she called in a trembling voice. Menacingly, the broken parcels hovered and framed her face in the background.

"Iris, may I come in?"

"No!" The padlocks shuddered and heaved as spiritual energy pressed against the door with incredible force.

"Iris, I just want to talk to you. Your Papa and Mama say the door has been locked from the inside. I promise nothing bad will happen."

The presents dropped a fraction. "... Are you sure?"

"I am sure."

The door creaked and swung open, enough to admit a strange woman. She was dressed simply in a suit, her brown hair swept up on her head.

The strangest thing about her, Iris found, was the woman's presence – which felt very much like her own. She pushed gently with her mind; to her surprise, it was returned.

Unnoticed, the presents tumbled to the floor.

"My name is Ayame, Iris," said the woman kindly. "I came from Japan to visit you."

Iris realised she had been staring and quickly scrambled for Jean-Paul. "Pleased to meet you," she mumbled into his ear.

"How are you?"

"Fine."

Ayame's expression changed subtly. "... Iris, your Papa and Mama have come to see you also."

Silence. The little girl's eyes faded.

Robert and Marguerite entered the room slowly. "I – Iris..."

She stared dully back at them. "Papa. Mama."

The woman's face crumpled. "Iris... Mama is so sorry..."

"Iris, Papa and Mama have something for you." He reached into his jacket pocket; with a shaking hand, he withdrew a silky pink ribbon. "Look, there's one for Jean-Paul too."

"It would look lovely in your hair," agreed Marguerite.

An awkward silence ensued.

* * *

A few hours earlier, Iris' parents had agreed to a meeting with a visitor from Japan. The woman, dressed conservatively in a suit, sat with her hands folded in her lap; a contrast to the bombshell she dropped on them.

"Lord and Lady Chateaubriand... I wish to take Iris back to Japan with me," said Ayame gently.

The couple blanched.

"I know this is hard for you both, and for Iris as well. But her gift is strong, and it will save many lives someday if we train her."

"Her gift? You mean the curse."

Ayame shook her head. "No. Such strong spiritual energy is a blessing."

Robert stirred slightly. "You spoke of 'we', Miss Fuijieda. There are others like Iris?"

"Yes – I too possess spiritual power. Japan has been plagued by demons; we only just managed to repulse a major invasion at great cost a few years ago. To protect the city, we are assembling a unit of spiritually strong people – they are the only ones who can harm the demons."

"... You want our Iris to become a soldier?" Maguerite's eyes flashed. "Putting her in harm's way?"

"That's not what I meant," hastily amended Ayame. Diplomacy was still something a little difficult for her and that small mistake had almost cost the fledgling Teigoku Kagekidan a potential warrior. "We have learned from the past, and built special armour to protect the girls. They are at very little risk, I assure you." Torn between telling the truth and convincing the Chateaubriands to give up their only daughter was a fine line.

"She will be living with others with her cur – gift?"

The relieved woman nodded, glad to have a question she could readily answer. "Yes. She will be trained to use her powers. But most importantly, we will treat her as a normal girl.

Robert and Marguerite exchanged glances. All they ever wanted for Iris – but at the cost of potentially losing her for good, raised by strangers in a distant land.

* * *

Marguerite broke the awkward silence, kneeling in front of Iris. She shrank back, clutching Jean-Paul tighter. "Iris," she began kindly, trying not to notice, "would you like to go to Japan with Miss Fujieda?"

Robert's head snapped around to stare at his wife, all composure lost. Ayame blinked in surprise.

"Lady Chateaubriand, this is a grave matter, perhaps you would like to consider it carefully..."

"There is nothing to consider." She clasped her hands in front of her, her face deadly pale but determined. "It is what we feel is best for Iris – but it is not our place to choose."

Iris gazed up at her mother with wide blue eyes.

Robert grasped her shoulder and led her out of the room. "Please pardon us while we discuss this offer," he said to Ayame.

"I understand. This must be a hard decision to make at such short notice."

They went into a neighboring room and shut the door. "Marguerite..."

"Robert... please don't say anything." Tears brimmed in her eyes. "Asking me to send my only child halfway across the world, alone... but if it means she doesn't have to be locked up in that dungeon..."

He saw her point. Japan – far-flung and distant – was still better than Iris' prison cell. At least she could grow up in the sunshine, with others with the same curse – no, gift.

People who would love her, raise her, understand her better than her parents ever could.

* * *

Ayame nodded slowly. "Iris," she began, "would you like to come back to Japan with me? It's a very nice place with plenty of things to see."

Her china-blue eyes brightened momentarily, then dimmed. "Iris won't go," she whispered. "Iris doesn't want to hurt people."

The adults glanced at each other. "... You won't, I promise." Ayame took a deep breath. "Iris, look at me."

Robert and Marguerite stared at her. "Miss Fujieda – "

Iris did – and gasped as she felt a gentle pressure come closer; a feeling very much like the power she possessed. She pushed back tentatively.

"See? I know you have great powers, Iris, but you're too young to control them. We can teach you how to use them to help people."

Ayame fought to keep her voice even as she spoke. The raw power that had penetrated her defences like a knife through butter had almost knocked her down – and the child seemed unaffected by such a large manifestation of spiritual power.

Iris Chateaubriand would truly be an asset to the Teigoku Kagekidan – if she chose to go.

Her eyes moved around the room; from her parents, to Ayame, and back again to her parents.

"... Iris will go."

* * *

At the harbour, only Iris' parents were there to see her off. Ayame had given them some time alone as she handled the passports and travel documentation.

"Iris... be a good girl for Mama. Listen to Miss Fujieda." Marguerite paused to compose herself. "Papa and Mama love you very much."

Iris nodded from behind Jean-Paul.

Her mother stretched out her arms to hug her – and gasped, astonished, when the little girl rushed forward into the hug.

"Mama," said Iris into Marguerite's dress. "I'm sorry."

"Oh, Iris..."

Robert knelt down, putting his arms around them both. "We are sorry too, Iris... Papa and Mama don't want to be parted from you either."

From afar, Ayame smiled.


	5. Five: Ri Kohran

_13__th__ April, 1919 (Taisho 8)_

_Shanghai, China_

The raggedy orphan breathed hard, ducking in and out of narrow alleyways. She stretched out a hand to catch the side of a pole and let her momentum carry her against it.

Kohran listened for her pursuer.

Silence, except for the faraway sounds of the city, punctuated by hisses of steam. She heaved a sigh of relief.

"Finally."

She sat cross-legged on a nearby crate and took out her precious bundle – snatched from the shop window of a pawnshop. A lucky thing the man's paunch prevented him from running and his two sons happened to be out on shop business. If she had been caught –

– Kohran shook her head to clear it and lifted away the fold of cloth.

A heavy gold watch gleamed in her hand, the lid heavily dented. Smiling, she held it up by the chain and examined it from all angles.

Her father's sole treasure, one of two survivors of the bandit raid on their village. It had gone out of her possession – briefly – and was hers, years too soon.

The pawnshop owner had been greedy enough to covet the watch, and unscrupulous enough to steal it from its orphaned beggar owner. Kohran had been too exhausted from the desperate trek from her ruined village to put up a fight. But now it was hers again.

The girl frowned. The watch's hands had stopped and she remembered it had yet to be fixed after taking the bullet meant for her heart. "Well, I'd better open it up and take a look..."

Fishing a rudimentary bag of supplies out of her satchel, Kohran eased up the back and exposed the cogs. She closed her eyes and remembered her father's lessons on the mechanics of the clock, before tinkering with the minute gears.

* * *

_15__th__ May, 1919 (Taisho 8)_

_Shanghai, China_

Old Chang began the day with the dusting. His shop assistant bustled around, fetching goods, making the place ready for business.

He opened the drawer to look for the duster – and yelped in surprise when something inside whirred and hummed.

"W – what?"

Kohran rushed over. "What is it, boss – oh! My Mr Duster!"

"Say what?"

She flicked a switch on the side of the contraption and the duster began sweeping left and right rhythmmically. "I noticed you get tired dusting, so I built this to make things easier! See, you just hold it up and it sweeps for you..."

The grizzled shopkeeper smiled. "Been a while since I saw a young 'un like you so talented with mechanical doohickeys. Makes an old man proud, it does."

"Aw, thanks, boss," beamed Kohran. "It's really nothing."

"That reminds me! I heard this fancy new steamship from Japan's stopping by the harbour this afternoon. Why don't you take the afternoon off and have a look?"

She put down the stack of papers and blinked at him. "New steamship?"

"Yeah." Chang eased himself off his stool; pulling a crumpled magazine from a drawer in his desk, he opened it to one page and handed it to Kohran. "Saved it for you – thought you would be interested. Articles says summat about a newfangled way of utilizing steam more efficiently – but that stuff's wasted on me."

"Kanzaki Heavy Industries," she read aloud, the Japanese sounding alien in her ears. "The leading power in steam machinery." Eyes shining, the little girl looked up from the magazine.

He waved a hand lazily at her. "Eh. Keep it. No use to me. Now be off with you, or I'll cut your pay if you show up a minute late tomorrow."

"Thank you, boss!"

* * *

Still in a daze, Kohran made her way back to Chang's little shop, her head spinning with the events of the day.

What a stroke of luck. Eager to see the new ship, she had dashed to the harbour only to find it packed with people waiting for passengers, all taller than she was. Undaunted, Kohran made her way to the terrace of a nearby hotel which boasted a good view of the harbour and the surrounding area.

All she wanted was to see that ship – it was the best she could hope for. There was no conceivable way a penniless orphan would be allowed to climb onboard and see the engines, the construction for herself.

Then the strange lady – Ayame, she said her name was. She was Japanese but spoke in passable Mandarin. Somehow, she knew about Kohran, knew about her talent for all things mechanical and had encouraged her to go to Japan to learn more.

"Sure, ma'am, that sounds real nice, but I haven't got any money," Kohran had told her. "I'm an orphan."

Strangely, the lady knew. And offered to take her to Japan on behalf of some Japanese military organization and find her a teacher.

"When you make up your mind, come and look for me," Ayame had said, passing her a piece of paper with a hotel address written on it. "I'll be waiting for your answer."

"Boss, sir! Are you still here?"

The owlish face poked out. "Honglan? It's late, what're you doing here?"

Excitedly, she related the events of the afternoon to him.

Chang pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose. This precocious young orphan, the closest thing he had to a daughter ever since the day he agreed to give her a job in his shop, was finally moving on. For once, he was glad the world had given her a chance to prove herself when it had crushed the dreams of so many others.

"Is there any catch?"

"I might need to stay on for a while and do research for the military."

"Well then, of course you're going," he said gruffly. "You're not going to pass up that opportunity to look at that ship, aren't you?"

Her brow creased. "But boss – who's going to help you in the shop?"

"There's no shortage of homeless, hardworking kids in Shanghai, I'm thinking. No, maybe I'll wait for you to build me that machine you're always talking about, that thing that can stack shelves and carry boxes for me."

Kohran was silent for a moment, her expression unreadable because the angle of the light making her glasses opaque.

"Boss, I promise when I get back, I'll build you the best, most efficient machine ever."

* * *

_25__th__ December, 1919 (Taisho 8)_

_Kobe, Japan_

Kohran had never been happier in her life. Her new mentor, Percy Howard, was a brilliant mechanic and inventor, always praising her little creations and pushing her to do more.

And his sense of humour... she had had not much reason to laugh in the past, but now found herself amused by his nonstop puns and jokes.

The puns were especially helpful in learning Japanese – much to the despair of her tutor, who was the constant victim of her jokes.

Most of all, Occhan (as she called him) was the only one who never laughed at her dreams of building a giant machine, one able to walk and do things like a normal human could.

"It needs t'be able t'fight too," she told him one night as she read an article in the newspaper about the growing demon threat. She was rapidly gaining mastery of Japanese, though her tutor's Kansai accent was becoming a part of her language.

Howard rubbed his chin. "That'll be useful indeed." His accent, a strange agglutination of foreign and Kansai was something peculiar to the man.

Today, however, was possibly the strangest thing he had done since she had come four months ago. A modest tree stood in the corner of the room. A gaily-wrapped box sat underneath.

"... Hey Occhan, what's this?"

He pulled a shocked face and pretended to fall over. "Masaka! Y'never heard of Christmas?"

"No..."

"... Well, can't be helped." Howard crossed the room in a few steps. "Anyway, we gaijin got this holiday called Christmas where we have a fancy tree an' we exchange presents."

Kohran blinked. "An' what's the rationale behin' that? I mean, what're you celebratin'?"

Howard laughed. "Y'don't need to know that. For you Chinese – and the Japanese – that's all y'need to know. Now, here. Merry Christmas."

"For me?" She opened the present carefully. Inside was a set of blueprints for a humanoid machine...

"Occhan! Is this – ?"

"Not mine, actually," he answered. "A coupla years back, when I was in Tokyo, I met this guy from the Imperial army – Yamazaki, I think. Brilliant mechanic and gifted inventor. He had this idea of building reiryoku-powered armour to fight against demons so the disaster of the Demon War wouldn't be repeated... great man. He wanted as many as possible on it so a breakthrough would be reached so much faster."

Kohran's eyes shone. "An' you're givin' the plans to me? Howard-han..."

"Ha, what happened to Occhan?" he teased her.

* * *

_9__th__ March, 1921 (Taisho 10)_

_Hanayashiki Branch, Tokyo  
_

Kohran fidgeted with the panel. "Jest a few more adjusmen's..."

The mechanic hovered close by, unsure of whether to interrupt. "Kohran-san, are you sure you want to recalibrate the lead wires? It might lead to a short circuit – "

"Trust me! I know what I'm doin'!" She slammed the panel closed and shot him a triumphant grin. "I was jest workin' on this improvemen' with my mentor!"

"If you say so..."

Kohran swung a wrench over her shoulder. "Yossha! Turn on th' power!"

The koubu's engine hissed into life, steadily humming as the anxious mechanic checked the dials and gauges. "It's... working perfectly! And feedback reports – why, this is the best levels of energy we've ever had!" The man gazed at Kohran in astonishment. "Kohran-san, please forgive me for doubting you."

"Jest Kohran would be fine – Kohran-san sounds weird, don't ya think?"

She was glad she was not too late – by the time Ayame had come to fetch her, Kanzaki Heavy Industries had already built three prototypes of Yamazaki's machines – koubu, they were called. Powering the thing had been an issue; Yamazaki had not added his ideas about reiryoku to the older copy of the blueprints the company possessed. But luckily the company's young heiress had stumbled upon that crucial fact – allowing Kohran to implement her ideas and findings on the newest prototype.

This one was painted a fetching purple, and Kohran wondered if it was the girl's idea.

"Well, that's jest the first. I've got a whole lot of improvemen's to make to this thin' – so can I count on your help?"

"Yes, ma'am!"

* * *

_24__th__ December, 1926 (Taisho 15_)

_Imperial Theatre, Tokyo_

"Y'know, instead of havin' a normal tree, we could have a mechanical one that can light up an' greet people!"

"... No, Kohran," said Maria.

"Okay, that might be a bit weird. How about an automatic present unwrapper that'll clean up after itself?"

"Maybe that's not such a good idea, Kohran..." hedged Sakura.

"Then a – "

"Kohran-san!" Sumire glared at her from over the top of her fan. Orihime seconded it. "The Hanagumi's Christmas celebration does **not** require such machines!"

Kohran grinned, not easily put off. "Sure does – okay, maybe not the fancier ones. Maybe smaller ones. I could build a machine to help backstage."

"That sounds interesting, Kohran," said Ogami loudly, cutting through the noisy babble that erupted. "Why don't you work on it some more and show us later?"

"Us? You can go, Chuu'i. I'm not coming close to any of her inventions, I don't want them exploding in my face!"

"But that's my latest innovation! Even though they explode, strangely enough it doesn't hurt..."

"Oh boy," sighed Ogami as he tried to keep the other girls from chasing Kohran.

* * *

_25__th__ December, 1926 (Taisho 15)_

_Imperial Theatre, Tokyo_

"Merry Christmas!"

The Hanagumi gathered around the grand tree in the corner of the lounge to exchange their presents.

"Everyone, I've got somethin' to say." Kohran beamed at all of them. "Joinin' the Hanagumi was one of the best things that ever happened to me. In appreciation of y'all, I've made a special machine for each of you."

The other girls eyed the boxes warily. "... That is a kind gesture, but not really necessary, Kohran," commented Reni.

"Nonsense! It was Ogami-han's idea anyway, so you can thank him as well!"

He blinked in surprise. "K – Kohran? But I said – "

"Go on, don't be shy! Open them up!"

Kanna held hers at arm's length, expecting the contents to jump out. Iris' hovered a safe distance from her. Reni and Maria calmly undid theirs. Sumire and Orihime kept poking their boxes tentatively. Sakura unwrapped hers with all the care of handling glass – albeit a deadly exploding variety.

"What – ?"

In all seven boxes lay... a perfectly ordinary, _non-mechanical_ gift.

Kohran exploded into laughter. "Hahahaha! Y'should've seen the looks on your faces!"

Sumire stood up slowly. "Chuu'i... you were in on this, weren't you?"

Ogami backed away. "N – no, this was what I suggested to her – erk!"

"That was a really funny joke," said Sakura. "I'm sure you must have had such fun planning it with Kohran."

"S – Sakura-kun, please don't pinch me so hard..."

"Kohran!"

"Ogami-san!"

"Uh oh!" The Chinese inventor quickly snatched Ogami out of the girls' clutches. "We'd better run, they don't look too happy!" He was only too happy to agree.

The pair of them fled down the corridors, eventually seeking refuge in the attic.

"This brings back memories!" she enthused, sitting down cross-legged on a pile of boxes.

"Does it?"

"Yeah, of bein' a small kid in Shanghai..." Kohran sneezed. "Darn, it's dusty in here."

He leaned against her pile of boxes. "Nobody comes up here often apart from me when I'm doing the night watch."

"Heh." She eyed the untidy piles of boxes, papers and files. "Maybe I should build that machine after all, boss."


	6. Six: Kirishima Kanna

_25__th__ December, 1926 (Taisho 15)_

_Imperial Theatre, Tokyo_

Kanna grumbled incessantly to herself as she scrubbed the stage. "This is unfair! After that show we put on yesterday, we should be enjoying our day off!"

"What, didn't you have fun yesterday, Kanna-han?" asked Kohran.

"It's not that I didn't, but..." She hoisted the mop over her shoulder, taking aim briefly; it launched through the air into the bucket at the other end of the stage, raising squawks from the other girls who were splashed with water. "Spending Christmas morning cleaning the theatre's hardly what I had in mind!"

"Cheer up!" beamed the Chinese inventor. "I heard Yoneda-han's treating us to a nice lunch as a reward!"

The news brightened Kanna up instantly. "Well, that changes things!"

"There's nothing better than a good meal after hard work!" exclaimed the cheery Okinawan as the Hanagumi walked in the streets of Ginza.

"... says the gorilla who was just earlier complaining about the aforementioned hard work."

"... I heard that, cactus woman!"

"Now, now, we shouldn't fight on Christmas Day," soothed Sakura.

"Yeah! Iris doesn't like it when you two fight!"

"You tell that to that prickly woman!" growled Kanna. "She's seriously got a problem!"

"At least I'm not as large and clumsy as you are, Kanna-san," sniped Sumire.

"... Let go of me, Maria! I'm gonna teach that stuck-up brat a lesson I should've a long time ago!"

Maria's eye flashed. "Stop this childish behaviour, the both of you! What would the Taichou say if he saw this?"

A silence fell over them. Ogami Ichiro, currently captain of the Paris Kagekidan, posted away in April and it was uncertain if he would ever be back. Each of the Hanagumi had been to visit him and each had noticed the Paris Kagekidan members were just as charmed by the lieutenant as they were – though all would rather die than admit it.

"... I'm hungry. Let's get to the restaurant fast, shall we?"

No one answered Kanna's valiant attempt at lightening the mood.

* * *

A beaming Tsubaki was waiting in the main entrance hall when the girls got back.

"You got back just in time!" she exclaimed.

"Huh? What's up?" asked a bemused Kanna.

In reply, she held up a familiar thick envelope, an address in English printed neatly on the front. The Hanagumi stared for a moment –

"Onii-chan's letter! It arrived!" squealed Iris.

Kohran grinned. "Finally, I'd thought it was never goin' to get here."

"Thank you, Tsubaki." Maria took the large envelope and slit it open neatly, handing individual smaller envelopes to their intended recipients. The gloomy mood of the morning was instantly dispelled, the girls excited over the letters from a faraway captain.

Kanna looked hers over; her name was written in Japanese on a thickish-feeling envelope. She slit it open once safe in her room, and opened the letter inside:

_Kanna,_

_Thank you for that last letter of yours. It arrived during breakfast here a few weeks ago but before I could open it, a demon attack forced us to respond... That is partially the reason it took so long to reply to you and the others. The city was very nearly destroyed by a very powerful enemy._

_I am glad to hear that the last performance went well. Thank you very much for the bromide you enclosed, it went into my collection immediately. It is nice that I can keep adding to it despite being halfway across the world from Teito._

_You asked me if I missed Teito. To be honest, a part of me does, but... Paris needs me and the Paris Kagekidan. My duty is to protect the people, no matter where I am. However, I do miss the Teigeki, Yoneda-shihainin, the Hanagumi... I regret a little now, not bringing a photograph with me. While it was nice to see you all in Paris, it is not quite the same. Sometimes I wish we could go down to Ginza for ramen, and then a sparring session afterward. _

_As of the time of writing, Paris has been relatively peaceful ever since we defeated the enemy. Owner has hinted that I might be posted home in a few months' time now that the Paris Kagekidan has grown strong. If so, I hope to write and let you know when I am transferred._

_Respectfully, _

_Ogami Ichiro_

She smiled and put the letter down. Despite being on the Teigoku Kagekidan for two years (and exchanging letters for close to a year), he was still stiffly formal in writing – and only a shade less in everyday life.

It was nice to know he missed them, almost as much as they – she – missed him.

Taking out a roll of paper, she picked up her pen (the brush was far too sloppy for her) and began to write her reply.

* * *

_30__th__ December, 1926 (Taisho 15)_

_Koubu Hangar, Imperial Theatre_

"Ratchet Altair," said the blonde girl with a half-smile. "Pleased to meet you all."

Kanna stared at the newcomer, trying to figure out something to say – when Reni burst out angrily and left. The other girls stared after her as Iris' calls echoed through the cavernous hangar.

"... I'm sorry, Altair-san." Maria stepped forward. "The battle must have been tiring on Reni."

"I understand."

The Russian extended her hand. "My name is Maria Tachibana, vice-captain of the Teigoku Kagekidan Hanagumi. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Ratchet shook it. "No, it's my pleasure. Please call me Ratchet. I'm sure we'll get along just fine."

"Indeed!" Orihime seized her arm in a familiar gesture that had Kanna raising an eyebrow. "We have so much to catch up on!"

The rest of the girls watched, bemused, as she led the newcomer away, chatting all the while.

"I've never seen Orihime-san this friendly before," sniffed Sumire. "She was most snobbish, if I recall correctly."

"They – along with Reni – were former members of the European Hoshigumi. Our predecessors."

Every head swiveled in Kohran's direction. She stood a little apart from them, her arms folded. "I watched the declassified battle video while buildin' the original koubu. There were five girls in the team – I jest realized Ratchet was one of them."

All were momentarily silent.

"So that's why Ratchet-san is here," mused Maria aloud. "Perhaps to make up for the Taichou's posting elsewhere."

"Very likely." The Chinese inventor fiddled with her spectacles. "Ratchet-san was the former captain."

Kanna frowned. "There's no way she's replacing the Taichou! I want to know what Yoneda has to say about this!"

* * *

_January 27__th__, 1927_

_Ogami Ichiro's apartment, Montparnasse, Paris_

As he sat down to breakfast alone – for the first time in days – Ogami reached for the bulky packet of letters that had just arrived that morning.

There was quite the mix, as usual; Iris' childish scrawl, Maria's careful hand, Sakura's neat characters... Each one bursting with news of home, and the feelings of the young women there. He took an envelope at random.

"Huh. Kanna's..."

_Taichou,_

_I'm afraid I can't be like you, and write in such a formal hand. Even though it's been a while since we started exchanging letters, I always want to apologise 'cos you always write so nicely._

_Glad to hear you and the Paris Kagekidan defeated the enemy. It must have been tough but I'm sure you did fine. It's really great to hear that Paris can depend on you to keep it safe._

_I'm _(Ogami frowned; most of the next line was heavily crossed out) _really excited to hear about the chance of your being posted back. You know I'm not good with words, so I'm just going to say "Congratulations" here and I really hope to see you soon. I think some of the others must've wrote to you about the new girl, Ratchet, who was posted here a few months after you left. Kohran said she might be replacing you, 'cos she used to be the captain of the European Hoshigumi _(Ogami smiled at the squiggly misshapen kanji that had been crossed out and replaced with katakana)_. That old man Yoneda wouldn't say anything either way, that old geezer..._

_The truth is, Taichou, _(more crossed out, heavily smudged words)_ we're all missing you very much. Even the cactus woman, who still won't admit it. I know you're going to say it's most unlike me, but I don't feel very happy about Ratchet's Eisenklied (whatever that is) taking your spot in the hangar. I really do wish Paris wasn't so far from Teito – maybe like the distance between here and Okinawa._

_But even if you never come back, I'm prepared for that. It's selfish to say we in Teito need you more than Paris does. You know, my old man used to spar with me all the time and that was how I knew he cared; he was making me stronger for the time in the future when he wouldn't be able to protect me anymore. It took me a long time to understand that._

_He would have liked to meet you, Taichou. Maybe when you get back, I'll take you to meet him._

_Kanna_

Ogami folded the letter neatly and put it away. "... Ah, look at the time... the manager wanted me to see her in her office today. I'd better hurry or I'll be late."


	7. Seven: Soletta Orihime

**Author's Notes: **In Italy, gift-giving usually happens around Epiphany, January 6th. As with the earlier oneshots, I've taken great artistic liberties with Sakura Taisen canon for the universe this collection happens in.

_**Tigron**_: Initially, I did intend to limit the themes to Christmas alone but quickly found it difficult; both in keeping each story interesting and different, and also interesting for me to complete (this is quite the project, after all). The oneshots actually all have several themes I won't explicitly state here.

* * *

_January 6__th__, 1913 (Taisho 2)_

_Rome, Italy_

Orihime eyed the mound of presents underneath the massive tree. Her mother, together with her grandparents, were waiting for her there.

"Come, _bambina_, open the presents Babbo Natale gave you." Carino patted her knee.

"Where's Papa?"

The sudden question had the adults start. "... What Papa, Orihime? You have no Papa," said her grandmother haltingly.

"I do! Rossio has a Papa! Ferruicia has a Papa! So I have a Papa too!"

"Orihime – "

"Your Papa abandoned you and your Mamma!" The commanding voice of the Soletta patriarch cut through anything else they wanted to say. "He left you and went back to Japan!"

"My Papa... abandoned us?"

"That's right!" The man glared down the length of his nose. "Japanese men are absolute swine, unwilling to accept responsibility!"

"Papa..." began Carino fearfully.

"Carino. I am preparing your daughter for the real world. Better she grow up angry, and strong."

He had said the wrong thing; the young woman's eyes hardened. "This is too cruel, Papa. Seiya – "

Vincenzo sighed heavily. "We do not need to bring this up again, daughter. That boy was not a noble, not even in his native country; a penniless artist! He ruined you for a respectable marriage, left you with this child to bring up."

Orihime's mother strode forward, standing up to the old man. "Do not say such things in front of my daughter, Papa."

"I speak the truth. Someday, you will understand that I did what I must for both your and Orihime's sakes." The older man knelt down and rested his hand on Orihime's head. "Do you hate me, child?"

She furiously wiped away the tears that were threatening to spill over. "... I do not, Nonno."

"Good girl." He unbent, picking up the little girl and sitting on the sofa. "... Orihime, you must understand. You do not have a papa, but you have Mamma, Nonno and Nonnia."

"... Yes, Nonno."

* * *

_December 22__nd__, 1921 (Taisho 10)_

_(Classified Location), Germany_

"Christmas?" frowned the young girl. "It's a little soon, don't you think?"

"Soon? Christmas is on the twenty-fifth of December, Orihime." Ratchet exhaled sharply; the throwing knife embedded itself off to the right of the wooden target. "Missed again."

Orihime stared at the quivering knife. "Haven't you recovered yet? It's nearly a year to the day – "

" – that's enough for one day, I think," interjected the captain. "I'm tired."

"I'm afraid you'll have to put that off, Captain." Fujieda Kaede walked into the leisure room. "There is an important visitor waiting in the command centre for all of you."

"Yes, ma'am."

Orihime looked troubled. "All of us? But – Reni won't come out of her room – "

The vice-commander nodded. "I understand. I'll speak with her, but the two of you should go now."

Without a word, Ratchet spun on her heel and strode off towards the command centre. Orihime trailed behind.

"Ratchet – I'm sorry for what I said – "

"Apology not accepted. You're right – I _am_ weak. I should have been fully recovered, now it's been a year..." The American girl glanced down at her right hand; it clenched into a fist. "But even before that, I was weak."

"You can't blame yourself for her death!" burst out the younger girl angrily. "Nor for Reni!"

Ratchet rounded on her, blue eyes flashing cold fire. "And, pray, who is, if not the commanding officer on the field? I was lax in planning the attack and commanding our deployment. My injury forced Hilde to take desperate measures. Reni has every right to hate me for sacrificing a powerful ally."

"That's not what – "

" – that is _enough_. One more word out of you, Orihime, and I will not hesitate to discipline you. Young as you are, you are still a soldier. Is that clear?"

"Who do you think you are, _Ratchet_? You're only a year older than I am."

"I am captain of the European Star Division, your commanding officer and your senior. You will address me as Captain."

Both refused to back off; the deadlock was resolved by the command centre's door opening. "... If you are finished with your discussion, the general is waiting," said Subaru.

"We are done here. Thank you, Subaru." Ratchet entered, followed closely by a still-fuming Orihime.

Their commander stood at the head of the table, accompanied by Kaede and a stranger dresssed in Japanese military uniform.

"Just in time, Captain. Lieutenant-General Yoneda, this is Ratchet, Captain of the European Star Division. Star Division, this is Lt. General Yoneda of the Japanese Imperial Army."

"An honour, sir."

Orihime's eyes narrowed in instant dislike – a Japanese man. The first one she saw for herself.

"Good, good," Yoneda grinned. "Now, to business."

"General Schwartz has been kind enough to let me talk to you all. But first I must commend you on the splendid work done with regards to last year's operation – Japan cannot begin to express her gratitude."

Reni's dull eyes flashed once.

"In the light of this event, my superiors are beginning to see the growing importance of having a similar force of spiritual warriors. I have been charged with heading this new division."

Subaru's fan opened with a flick.

"My deputy commander is currently engaged with recruiting some members to begin with and naturally, I thought I should at least contribute." Yoneda paused to sip from a hip flask. "... General Schwartz, have you informed them?"

"... No. I felt you should be the one."

Ratchet's face tightened.

The Japanese general became grave. "European Star Division, your unit is to be dissolved as of the thirty-first of December, 1921."

"What?" burst out Orihime and Ratchet simultaneously. "Commander – !" Subaru remained impassive, as did Reni.

"Forcing girls this young into battle has been a mistake from the start. This unit will be decommissioned, though you will continue to carry out small missions in secret," said General Schwartz.

"As such, if you wish to continue your military careers, you are welcome to join the Teigoku Kagekidan. If not, you will be honourably discharged or will be assimilated into the regular army. Of course, you will be given proper training and allowed into battle when you have reached a degree of proficiency deemed acceptable to Lt. General Yoneda."

"This is an outrage!" stormed Ratchet. "You cannot just dissolve a unit to create another one! I refuse to join!"

"Ratchet!" called Kaede after her.

"Subaru is not convinced that the combat capability of a fledgling unit will be sufficient to efficiently complement an experienced squad member. Additionally, Subaru does not know of a person competent to serve as captain of the unit." She rose to leave as well. "Perhaps when the Teigoku Kagekidan has acquired sufficient experience, or a competent leader."

That left Orihime and Reni in the command centre; Orihime with a look of disgust on her face, Reni's a emotionless blank.

The commander rubbed his temples. "And you, Orihime, Reni? What is your answer?"

"Certainly not! I will not go to a country full of scoundrels and filth! Please excuse me, Lieutenant-General!" She stood on the threshold of the door. "Come, Reni! What do you think of his offer?"

"... I do not wish to enlist in another unit..."

Schwartz watched helplessly. "I... I do not know what to say, Yoneda. I did not expect them to take the news this hard; this should have been expected, given the disaster of last year."

"The death of a comrade is hard on any soldier," said Yoneda quietly. "There is nothing to explain, Schwartz. But if I could have one favour..."

"Anything, my friend."

"What is your professional evaluation of the girls?"

"Well – since this unit is to be decommissioned, I see no harm in revealing their full names. Their full files, of course, will be given to you."

"Thank you."

"... They are young, though."

"I know. I plan on transferring them in later, when the force is more established. In the meantime, everything is up to you."

"I understand. You can count on me."

* * *

_18__th__ April, 1925 (Taisho 14)_

_Imperial Theatre Courtyard, Tokyo_

It was nice weather, Orihime reluctantly conceded, but the company left much to be desired. Against her will, she had been posted to hateful Yoneda's Teigoku Kagekidan.

She scowled. She should have known earlier (it was highly suspicious when the commander sent her and Reni to learn Japanese, saying it was for a top-secret mission in that country). But then again, Reni was the master of espionage, not her.

"Japan is a lousy place _de~su_." Yes. She was finally getting the hang of that alien language. Orihime wondered what she had done to be stuck in a low-level unit, and how she was going to get herself out of it...

"... Uh, I don't think it's that bad, Orihime-kun."

Her eyes widened.

A sheepish smile on his face, Ogami Ichiro took a seat on the bench beside her.

"... I did not say you could sit here, Shou'i-san."

"I won't take long, I promise."

Orihime folded her arms, sticking up her nose. "Well, say what you have to say, and then leave me in peace. Honestly, Japanese men are the worst."

"... Orihime-kun, you don't have to like me, but I hope you can get along well with the other Hanagumi members. We are, after all, teammates."

She sniffed. "Well, it's not like I wanted to be a part of this team. There's no way you all can support me adequately. And secondly, what other members? There's only Cherry-san – Sakura-san, and that little girl... plus a Japanese low-life male _Taichou_ I can barely tolerate the company of!"

With that parting shot, she stalked away.

"Oh boy... this is going to be quite a problem..."

* * *

_30__th__ December, 1926 (Taishou 15)_

_Imperial Theatre Lounge, Tokyo_

"Chuu'i-san!" Orihime leapt to her feet and took his arm.

"Orihime-kun – it's nice to see you again."

"Ah, it's been too long!" Abruptly, her eyes narrowed. "... You didn't bring back any of those French girls with you, right?"

"Eeeh?" Ogami visibly paled. "O – Of course not!"

"That's good – nice to know you can be trusted unlike most Japanese men, _de~su_! You've raised my expectations of you."

"... We Japanese men aren't all that bad, you know." He was smiling as he said it.

"... Yes. That I do know now."

"Is that all you have to say?" he teased. "What happened to the old Orihime-kun that despised the thought of being in the same room as a Japanese man?"

She had the good grace to blush. "Chuu'i-san! Teasing me, like this... how contemptible!" They shared an easy laugh, before she continued in a serious tone. "A lot has changed since then... you helped me find Papa, and brought Mamma and Papa back together."

"... and you were there for me, Ogami-san..." she whispered under her breath.

Ogami blinked. "Hmm? Did you say something else, Orihime-kun?"

"Of course not!"


	8. Eight: Reni Milchstrasse

**Author's Note: **This was actually written before Orihime's chapter, meaning the unaddressed ambiguities there are explained here. _Grober Bruder_ is German for big brother, _Pruefling_ means subject of the test variety.

* * *

_December 24__th__, 1915 (Taisho 4)_

_Kinderheim 34, Berlin_

Life in the Kinderheim was always tedious but was a welcome change from her usual quarters. Reni cared little for it, not much given to philosophical rumination.

Homes were merely places one resided in briefly while awaiting transition to the next one. Kinderheim 34 was especially so, being a temporary residence for her after the previous house was destroyed by a failed experiment.

Ingrid simply had not been strong enough to withstand the training. She had long fair hair, tied back with a red ribbon. Reni rarely spoke to her.

Nevertheless, the Masters were not giving up easily despite most of their subjects going insane, killing their masters and then themselves. The remaining few subjects, Reni included, were shipped out to state-run Kinderheims all over the country while the Grand Master built a new house for his pets.

After a month, Reni had found herself a little shadow. Hilde, a bright orphan who lost her parents and older brother in a train accident, took an instant liking to the 'grober Bruder' who spent all day reading in the bedroom.

"Look, Reni!"

The elder girl closed the book and examined the misshapen box that sat in the outstretched palms. "A gift."

"Ja! You're always so smart." It was followed by peals of laughter. Hilde's blonde braids went flying as she rushed over to the curtains. "I'm kidding. It's for you! I made it myself."

Reni held up the box, turned it over in her hands as she conducted her analysis. "This is the box that Frau Pfitzer received in the mail eight days ago. The fake pearl necklace from the catalogue."

"Fake? Really? Anyway, she gave it to me, said she didn't want it any more." Hilde grinned, showing off the new gap in her teeth. "Go on, open it!"

Mechanically, she lifted the lid and took out the ribbon inside. "Thank you." It was red, like Ingrid's ribbon. _Grosgrain_, she thought, rubbing it between her fingertips._ Little practical value; no tensile strength for garroting a man. A mere decorative object._

"That's all?" The girl pouted. "You missed the best part!"

There was a weight unnatural for a length of cheap ribbon. She opened her hand, revealing the metal brooch glued to the middle of the ribbon.

"Happy birthday and Merry Christmas! Here, there's a clasp at the ends so you can put it on, let me help you..."

Reni let her friend fasten it around her neck. "An ornament?"

"Yep! I found it the other day, in the street outside the yard." Hilde stepped back to admire her work.

The older girl fingered the brooch. "It is aesthetically appealing, despite the lack of refinement and craftsmanship. I thank you, Hilde."

"Don't mention it... I think," she giggled. "You're always so serious, Reni!"

The door to the bedroom swung open, and a stern man neither girl recognized strode in. "Reni Milchstrasse and Hilde Neumann?"

Both rose to their feet. "Yes."

He held out a card. "Adolf Heinkelmann. You are both to come with me."

Ice ran in Reni's veins. "I have been waiting for you, yes, but why her?"

"This matter does not concern you. Come with me immediately."

Hilde looked between the both of them. "Reni, is something wrong? Aren't we being adopted?"

A surge of alien emotion welled up inside the older girl. Darting in between them, she fixed the man with a furious glare. "You will not take her."

Heinkelmann's face darkened. Usually, Wunderkind subjects were docile and obedient – mistakes were quickly eliminated, before they could infect the others. How the belligerent specimen before him could have survived so long was beyond his understanding.

"There will be no arguments, Pruefling 190937. You shall come quietly together with Neumann."

Hilde clung to Reni's leg. "He scares me, Reni. Is everything alright?"

She looked down at the wide blue eyes, her logical mind's answer being, for once, withheld. "Yes, Hilde. I promise."

"How dare you – "

Reni moved fast, going for the man's leg before he could draw his gun. "Run!"

"But – Reni – !"

"_Verdamnt_!" Heinkelmann freed his leg, only to be knocked over again. "Don't just stand there, _schwein_, take them!"

Similarly-dressed men stormed in and quickly took them. The struggle was over.

The leader stood up, wiping a bit of blood from his mouth. "I would kill you here for this, if the Master didn't want especially want you." Reni stared back defiantly. It mattered little what happened to her, so long as...

"What will you do to her?"

He snorted. "It matters not to you."

The last she saw of Hilde was her wide, frightened eyes, and her blonde braids, swinging.

* * *

_December 14__th__, 1920 (Taisho 9)_

_Classified Location, Germany_

The tall army general eyed his squadron, his petite Asian-looking second-in-command at his side. "I have received new instructions from my superior – we are to have a new member."

The four girls barely reacted.

"Who is she, Commander?" asked the tallest of the four, a blonde girl wearing captain's insignia.

"The latest product of Germany's system – a new program designed to identify and enhance latent spiritual power. Very promising subject, I was informed."

A girl in purple sniffed haughtily. "Another Reni?" she asked, her English heavily accented with Italian.

"Not from the Wunderkind program, no. It was shut down years ago after some – _questionable_ – practices came to light." He walked forward, rested a hand on Reni's shoulder lightly. "My superior assures me of the humanistic principles the new program operates by."

"Her abilities?" asked the final member of the squadron, a Japanese girl.

"Highly competent tactical commander, excellent hand-to-hand combatant, skilled in several martial disciplines, exceptional dexterity and highly intelligent," recited the general.

"Intriguing," she said, her face remaining inscrutable.

"But enough chatter. Remember, your last names are classified, as is hers." A pale blonde girl in a white version of the squadron's battle uniform walked into the room. "European Star Division, this is Hilde, the new member."

Recognition sparked in Reni's eyes. But this girl was different, older. Her blue eyes appeared both sharp and dulled at the same time. She still wore her hair in two braids.

"Hilde?"

She turned those strange blue eyes on her. "... Reni. It has been a while."

The captain stepped forward. "It appears you already know Reni. I am Ratchet, the captain of this squad. Over there are Orihime and Subaru."

Hilde inclined her head. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

The general cut in. "Now that you have met the final member of your squad, I have an important mission for you." He nodded at his deputy. "Fujieda?"

She called up a map on the large screen behind them. "As you know, even though this squadron is based in Germany, we are obliged to take orders from Japan because of the nation's crucial involvement in the technology of the Eisenkleids."

"The recently concluded Demon War has left Japan weakened against external threats. Germany has been assisting with supplies and other forms of aid. Recently, the Russian rebels have been intercepting these supplies for their own use."

"This seems like a relatively simple military operation. Why is our involvement required?" asked Ratchet.

"Because of this." A blurred image of a monstrous thing replaced the map. "They have been attacking the supply lines alongside the Russians."

"An alliance between humans and demons? This is unprecedented," said Subaru.

"Precisely why this is very worrying to us." Kaede turned off the monitor. "Your mission is to eliminate the demons and whoever is controlling them."

Ratchet saluted smartly. "Understood! European Star Division, move out!"

* * *

Inside the Eisenkleid, as they traveled to their destination, Hilde heard an incoming radio transmission.

"Hilde? Is that really you?"

"Yes, Reni."

"... I am sorry I did not keep my promise..."

"There is no need for an apology. They would have taken me eventually. The chances of success were very low. Still, I thank you for trying your best to prevent that from happening."

"... What did they do to you? You never used to talk like this. Like me."

"Training, Reni. They awakened the hidden power sleeping inside of me. I am no longer the Hilde you used to know. I am a soldier, and I am on a mission."

Reni stared at the flashing red notification – the radio link had been terminated. "Understood," she said, slipping back into her usual self.

* * *

"Your orders are simple," said Ratchet. "Wait for the enemy to attack, then destroy them on my signal."

"Ratchet. It would be more logical to conduct a reconnaissance of the area and ascertain their numbers."

"Negatory. Thousands of units of supplies have already been taken or destroyed. After reviewing the intelligence reports, there can't be more than fifty. We don't need to waste unnecessary effort. By my calculations, this is the most efficient way to use our resources."

Ratchet's Eisenkleid moved forward, and was halted by Subaru's.

"Attacking without knowing the strengths of the enemy is suicide," came the flat voice. "Surely you have been taught better than that, _Captain_?"

Inside the cockpit, Ratchet frowned. "... Point taken, Subaru."

Hilde spoke up. "I can scout, Captain. Leave it to me."

"Hilde? No. You just joined the team. It's too dangerous for you to go alone." The mechanical eye swiveled. "... Reni. You scout ahead, report back here immediately once you've made a rough estimate of their numbers. Orihime, you provide cover in case she's spotted. Hilde, Subaru, we need to work out a battle strategy."

"Yes, ma'am."

* * *

"Are you sure it was wise to do that, Reni?" asked Orihime anxiously as the young German vaulted out of her Eisenkleid's cockpit. "We don't know how many enemies are there, and unarmed..."

"I will be able to move undetected like this," said Reni. "Also, I am not unarmed." A small pistol and knife were slipped into hidden holsters on her uniform. "Remain here. Do not worry, I will return."

The Italian girl watched her vanish into the forest, a pit of unease forming in her stomach.

* * *

Reni held her breath and watched. A man of Japanese extraction, surrounded by malformed demons, seemed to be engaged in some ritual – undoubtedly the mastermind. There were more demons around the area, but they were segregated from the humans. She calculated there were about a hundred altogether; nothing the Star Division could not handle.

It was time to return.

"_Narushitel_!"

Reni's breath caught. She had been discovered. The demons closed in for the kill. Drawing her knife, she slashed open the side of one's throat and fired her pistol simultaneously; the spiritual energy-infused bullet felled another creature.

"Reni!"

A pair of Eisenkleid burst into the fray. Bursts of lasers drove the attackers back, allowing Hilde to move in front of Reni, beheading one of the stragglers with her sword.

"... Hilde... Orihime..."

"Get back to the Eisenkleid! We'll cover you!" A purple blast cleared a path through the demons."There are too many of them! We need reinforcements!"

"If the others have not detected the disturbance by now, I would be greatly surprised."

* * *

Subaru calmly lifted her head from the map. "It appears that the others have already engaged the enemy."

"What? But that's – never mind." The captain hopped back into her Eisenkleid. "Move out! Destroy all enemies!"

"Understood."

* * *

With Ratchet's and Subaru's arrival, the skirmish turned into an all-out war. Shrieks filled the air as the demons were steadily decimated.

Frustratingly, however, there were always enough left at any given time protecting the leader – and he was making full use of it, summoning more and more demon reinforcements.

The Star Division were good, but endless hordes of enemies were beyond them.

"The situation doesn't look good," grimaced Ratchet. "At this rate, we..."

"Captain. I have an idea." Hilde's Eisenkleid, gruesomely splattered with green, sank its sword into a demon's throat and used the time pulling it out for breathing space. "My Eisenkleid is fitted with a newly-developed explosive incendiary device – "

" – request denied." A throwing knife embedded itself between the eyes of an attacker. "I am not letting you sacrifice yourself."

"I disagree. Hilde is right. That is the most logical decision to preserve the greater good," commented Subaru.

"No! Nobody's dying today!"

Reni stared blankly ahead; a lance thrust gutted a pair of demons that happened to be standing close together. "..."

"Star Division!" shouted Ratchet. "Regroup, and – aaah!"

"Ratchet!"

The white Eisenkleid ran forward and pulled Ratchet's machine from the demons. "We have no other option."

"... Hilde..."

"... Reni." The older girl was sure she was smiling; both mecha stood back to back against the attackers. "I noticed earlier... you were still wearing that trinket..."

There was a strange lump in Reni's throat, which she could not come up with a logical explanation for. "... It has aesthetic appeal..."

"I know... This, it could have been different, in another time and another place." As they talked, their bodies continued to move in sync, holding their own against the tide. "You protected me once, Reni. Allow me to do the same."

"... Understood..."

On a silent cue, the Eisenkleid split; one barreled into the heart of the demons, the other ran from it.

A blinding white explosion filled the sky; the Star Division were saved from major damage by the buffer of other demons closer to the centre.

* * *

_December 24__th__, 1920 (Taisho 9)_

_Classified location, Germany_

They assembled again in the underground bunker for the first time since that battle.

"... I see. So Hilde sacrificed herself to save all of you." The general put down the report. "I will mention this to my superiors."

"And how are your injuries, Captain?"

She stood rigidly. "Healing well, sir."

"... The doctor informed me of the – _consequences_."

"... Yes." Ratchet's gaze went elsewhere. "There is a chance I might lose my spiritual power in the future."

"I see."

He stood up, walked around the table. "The worst of the war is over. And Hilde's sacrifice was not in vain; we just learned that the man was a dangerous enemy and was involved in planning further attacks on Japan. The supply line raids were mere stepping stones to his goals."

"..."

"Well done, Star Division. The German and Japanese governments are grateful. Dismissed."

Reni walked from the conference room, touching the cheap brooch at her throat.


	9. Nine: Erica Fontaine

**Author's Note: **This oneshot was very blatantly based around Joan of Arc. As always, butchering of French, timeline mistakes both historical and canonical and characterization fail is my own.

**_

* * *

May 30__th__, 1921 (Taisho 10)_**

**_Orléans, France_**

Twelve-year-old Erica stared, wide-eyed, at the crowd filing into the little chapel. It was not normally this packed every morning when she came in to pray. She tugged on her mother's skirt.

"Maman, why are there so many people today? Isn't it a Monday?"

"Hush, Erica." The older woman examined the girl's face as though seeing her for the first time; she licked her finger, and wiped a smudge of dirt from Erica's cheek. "_Mon Dieu_, did you fall down again? What have I said about playing with the boys?"

"I didn't play with them – well, I tried to, but I fell down."

"Heaven bless this child," Jeanne Fontaine tutted. "Now you must hush. Today is the feast-day of Sainte Jeanne d'Arc."

Erica bounced excitedly. She loved feast-days – prayers, followed by sermons from gentle Father Luc and topped off with plenty of special food. Croissants, little pastries baked by Pierre the baker, and if she was lucky, someone would have been to Paris and came back with èclairs for the congregation.

"Why didn't we celebrate last year?"

"Such an inquisitive girl. Maman will tell you, after this."

Arman Fontaine watched the entire exchange out of the corner of one eye, his face stern. But when Erica drew closer, he ruffled her hair, earning him a pout. "Be good," he rumbled through his moustache, "or Maman might change her mind."

* * *

As the adults ate, drank and laughed, Erica wandered off to the front of the church where the painting hung. After the canonization of Sainte Jeanne the previous year, a beautiful commissioned painting had arrived from Rome; it depicted the saint kneeling in prayer, her famous banner at her side as an angel descended to whisper in her ear. It was hung with great ceremony behind the altar and soon became the little church's treasure.

"_She was visited by Sainte Michael, Sainte Catherine and Sainte Margaret when she was about your age; she was just an ordinary peasant girl. But they told her she must drive the English out of France and crown the Dauphin."_

_Rapt with attention, Erica did not notice a few __è__clair crumbs fall to the floor. "And she went and did it?"_

"_Yes! She escorted the Dauphin Charles to Rheims for his coronation and led his armies to victory. She rescued our city of Orléans from the English as well."_

Sunlight from the window appeared to make the angel's halo glow radiantly, its light reflected in Jeanne's painted face. Wings, beautiful and glossy-feathered, bore the angel aloft.

"_When your Maman was born, Grandperé was worried I would not live – such a sickly babe I was. He dedicated me to Sainte Jeanne and promised he would name me after the blessed saint if I survived."_

The radiant, upturned face looked too young for the martyrdom that awaited her.

"_But how did she manage to do all those things, Maman? Did she have God's gift like – mmph!"_

Erica felt the earth tremble, but dismissed it as her own imagination.

"_Hush, Erica," her mother said in a fearful whisper. "I told you never to talk of it in the presence of others. He works in many mysterious ways – they might not understand His special gift to you." _

_Suddenly afraid, she nodded._

"_But I believe so too. You are a special girl and God has chosen you to do great things in His name."_

A special girl, with a special gift – just like her.

"_You must never tell others of your gift. Do you understand, Erica?"_

A strange cracking sound reverberated around the chapel. People screamed as chunks of stone began to fall.

"Maman!"

"_I understand."_

"Maman! Papa!" Erica fell to her knees as her way was blocked by a falling beam. Another fell towards her; she raised her hands to protect her face – and a shimmering dome of _something_ materialized. The beam bounced harmlessly off it.

"_God has a plan for you, Erica. We just don't know what it is yet."_

She watched in dismay, safe within her shell, as falling rubble buried the painting of Sainte Jeanne and everything else around it.

* * *

**_December 25__th__, 1923 (Taisho 12)_**

**_Paris, France_**

"It's _cold_!" squealed Erica.

Sister Thérèse huffed her disapproval. "You don't come from very far away, Erica," the nun said. "There's no reason to suppose you haven't experienced such winters."

The girl picked at her red habit – the bright colour of the dress belied its inability to keep out the cold. "I used to have a nice fur coat then, Soeur Thérèse..." Erica glumly rubbed the lining of her sleeve.

"You are a nun-in-training now. Such luxury does not befit you."

"Oh, it wasn't luxurious in the slightest! Papa bought it second-hand from a lady, so it had holes and patches where the fur wore through."

The older nun frowned. "It will not do to think of your home always. Such regrets prevent you from serving Our Father whole-heartedly."

"Amen," said Élise piously. The only other novice in the convent, she was a quiet girl from Domrémy-la-Pucelle who rarely spoke except to pray. Sister Thérèse nodded approvingly at her.

Erica sighed and trudged along behind them, sparing a longing glance at the street children huddled around a brazier, roasting chestnuts and tossing them between their hands to cool them.

* * *

Later, having been banned from helping the other sisters clean the convent before Christmas dinner (after an unfortunate incident involving a broom and Father Leno's prized statue of the Virgin Mary), Erica decided to visit the street children.

She took out the little purse of money – the meager savings of the year – from under her mattress. There was a silence as she counted the coins.

"There isn't enough to buy even a pudding!" Erica wailed, flinging herself onto her bed. The thought of a pudding-less Christmas horrified her – even the convent's Christmas spread included a pudding, both traditional and the sweet foreign coffee crème-topped variety she adored.

All of a sudden, she sat bolt upright. "Just because there isn't pudding doesn't mean they can't have a Christmas feast!"

Dragging a large sack from the same hiding place, she clattered downstairs, humming carols to herself.

"I'm sure Father Leno wouldn't mind – after all, he did say we should help the poor," smiled Erica as she emptied out the kitchen larder into the sack. "He said the food over in the other cupboard was for tonight's dinner, so I know he won't miss these."

She unbolted the back door and was out, her boots crunching in the freshly fallen snow. "Please wait for me - here I come!"

* * *

"That was tiring work, Father Leno," wheezed Sister Thérèse.

"Indeed!" He paused to mop his brow, sweating despite the snow outside. "Maybe we should clean the place more often, yes? Well, at least we shall have a splendid dinner, praise God."

"Élise, child! Help Soeur Thérèse prepare dinner, yes?"

"Yes." She fell in behind Sister Thérèse into the kitchen as Father Leno settled himself into a chair. All was silent for a moment, before a shriek sounded.

"Mon Dieu! The food – all gone!"

Father Leno surveyed the empty cupboard grimly. "... Erica!"

So great was the distress of the others that no one noticed Élise hide a smile behind her hand.

* * *

In a small apartment not far from the church, the normally dull dining room was alive with laughter. Children and adults gathered around the feast laid out on the table.

"All this food! Is it really for us, Soeur Erica?"

"Of course it is! _Joyeux Noel_! And I'm not a nun yet, unfortunately... please, call me Erica."

The woman of the household, bent and aged prematurely from hard labour, clutched her hands gratefully. "We can't thank you enough. Bless you for making this year special."

"The pleasure is all mine," she beamed back.

* * *

When Erica sneaked back into the convent's back door late that night, she was surprised to see Father Leno waiting for her.

"Ah – Père! Shouldn't you be in bed... oh. Did I do something wrong again?"

"Good heavens, child – what possessed you to give away our Christmas dinner to the poor? Not that I disapprove, but you should have asked first, yes?"

She hung her head. "Forgive me... I didn't know I took from the wrong cupboard."

His anger dissipated gradually. "I forgive you – though Soeur Thérèse might not be as generous, being deprived of her nougat blanc," he said, eliciting a hastily stifled giggle from the young novice. "You are still young and cannot know any better."

"It's late. Go to your room, Erica. You must be tired, yes?"

"I'm fine," she smiled. "I'd just like to pray first before bed."

* * *

Father Leno's own little church, not far from the convent, boasted two things; a magnificent stained glass window that dated back to medieval times, and a fine altar that would not have been out of place in the Vatican.

Erica did not know any of this. She knelt in prayer before it, hands clasped piously.

A while later, the priest poked his head in to check on her – and frowned. There was a definite presence in the room – angels? Did he dare he presume – even the Lord Himself? Light. He sensed light, though there was only a few beams streaming from the stained glass window.

He gathered his wits together and crossed himself. It made no sense at all. Erica continued her prayers, oblivious to Father Leno.

* * *

"Light? Whatever are you talking about, Père?"

"It is as I have said," grumbled the priest. "Erica has a presence – though I doubt it is the blessed spirit, given the girl's clumsiness."

Grand Merè considered his words carefully. "... Erica, is it? She is not a confirmed novice?"

"Though it can't be denied her heart is in the right place, I find it difficult to believe she will grow into the quiet restraint of the sisterhood." He rubbed his temples wearily. "Perhaps she will find her true path in life if we send her away."

"Not her home? Hasn't she a family?"

Father Leno shook his head sadly. "Alas, Madame, her parents were killed when an earthquake destroyed their parish church a few years ago. It was a miracle Erica survived unharmed when she was standing right before the altar where the crossbeams fell, praise God. She is a novice here only because my predecessor knew the Fontaines quite well."

"Miracle? I wonder..." murmured Grand Merè. "Ah – Père Leno, if I might make a request of you... please don't send Erica away."

"Not send her away?" His glasses slid down the bridge of his nose in his consternation. "Keep her? But Mademoiselle – "

"Trust me," she smiled. "That child is special, only she doesn't know it yet."

"Special?"

"I believe so."

"... Very well, Mademoiselle; Erica can stay. You have been a good friend for years and if you say she is special... you must have your reasons. Although I confess myself quite skeptical."

"Trust me, Père Leno. God works in mysterious ways, as you often remind me."

He made an unhappy sound.

* * *

Sakomizu looked up from his work. "You look happy, Madame. Have you good news for me?"

"The best. We have one potential recruit already. From the sound of it, she hasn't awakened to her true power yet but seems to be quite a powerful one."

"Good, good," said the Japanese ambassador absently. "Where is she?"

"Living with a friend of mine," Grand Merè answered. "When she is ready, we will start training her. Now, for your end of the plan?"

He unlocked the lower drawer of his desk, pulling out a blueprint detailing a bulky humanoid construct. "I'll have Kanzaki-san start building the prototype right away."


	10. Ten: Coquelicot

**_15th October, 1923 (Taisho 12)  
_**

**_Saigon, Vietnam_**

"If you want safe passage, it will cost you a lot more than this," spat the greasy man in broken Vietnamese. "This won't even pay for the risk I'm taking."

The other man blanched. "This – this is all we have!"

"Then get more." Hawking up a glob of phlegm, he disappeared into the night.

The little girl hidden in the shadows followed closely, careful to keep out of the man's sight. He evidently was accustomed to being followed; now and then he doubled back to throw off potential dangers. His clumsy methods did nothing to shake her off.

Eventually he boarded a rusty steamship docked in the harbour, disappearing below deck. She hesitated for a moment before turning left, towards the stern, rather than the right path he took.

The stern was pitch-black; she was forced to grope in the dark for a relatively safe place to sleep. Finally her fingers brushed fabric – canvas, most likely a spare sail. It was better than she had hoped for. Settling underneath the folds, she tucked her grimy aodai around her and fell asleep.

* * *

She woke to a gentle rumbling noise; initially she thought it was the sound of the ship's engines. Daylight streamed in through a tiny window, showing the source of the sound.

Mesmerized despite herself, the little girl stared at the tiger's sleeping face. Its whiskers ruffled with every breath. As though sensing her presence, its gold eyes blinked open and found hers.

"Good boy," she said, reaching between the bars to pet its nose. Instead of chewing off her hand (as most wild animals are likely to do), it blinked lazily back at her and went back to sleep.

Apparently the smuggler hid illegal travelers among his wild animals, banking on the fact the French customs officials were loath to risk themselves searching the animals' cages, especially the maneaters. Not far from the tiger's cage was a pair of lions, a rhinoceros and a yawning hippopotamus.

She was glad she had an affinity with animals since young; she was not about to waste her mother's sacrifice by coming this far to fail.

_France has many great circuses, her mother had told her. You'll make a good living there, Hoa. _

_Where is France?_

_Over the ocean, a ship's ride away._

_It's too far._

_Well, maybe it is. But the French people will love you there. You'll perform our family's magic every night to packed halls. You'll have all the food you can eat, and more money than you can imagine – _

– _Má?_

_Yes, Hoa?_

_You'll be there too, won't you?_

_Yes. We'll perform together, always._

_Always._ She curled back up under the sail and went back to sleep, lulled by the gentle rocking of the ship.

* * *

Hunger woke her some time later, when it was dark again and the animals sound asleep. Fresh food littering the cages meant her hiding place was safe, and she could stay there until they reached France.

Slipping into the kitchen was easy (she followed her nose) and stealing some food easier still; enough to keep her alive for a few days and yet not betray her presence. Some of the sausage, she shared with her tiger friend who snapped it up eagerly. Apparently their rations were not quite enough.

Hoa lay back, snuggled against the tiger's fur, (she named him Binh) and dreamt.

* * *

Père Leveque was tall, with blond hair that shone like the sun. He came from France and taught French to the village children.

She made his pocket watch turn into a flower, and he laughed and said _très charmant, la petit fleur._

It was lovely, because her name also meant flower.

He was nicer than the other French men in uniforms who swept in and out of the village. Père Leveque had seen her with the animals, and not been afraid.

_Don de Dieu_. Hoa was sure he had said something like that. She couldn't remember, because he said a lot of things. They were butterflies, soaring and scattering from her arms into the sky.

* * *

An eternity passed before the ship stopped rocking. Hoa swung onto the harbour through the anchor chain (the gangplank was dangerous) and set foot in France. Tall, tall men and blonde-haired women thronged the streets; glittering buildings in the distance held her attention.

A soft growl caught her attention. Binh's cage was being loaded onto a truck; he grumbled his protest with every jolt.

The decision took her a split second; the little girl pulled her new canvas shawl over her head and followed the truck through the crowded streets.

* * *

A circus; a fancy one like the ones that populated her dreams. She recognized the greasy man from the Saigon docks cleaning the elephant enclosure. Her heart skipped a beat; her dreams were coming true.

"Eh? This isn't a place for you, child." A tall man (but his hair was dark as night) stood before her. "Run along."

His French was fast, mumbled. Hoa barely caught his meaning. "I... work here."

"Work? You? What do you do? You're not from around here, aren't you?" He bent down and wrinkled his nose. "Ran away from home to join the circus?"

_Circus_. The girl nodded. "I want work. Here."

"Don't speak French very well. Huh. Fresh off the boats. Fine, we can always use another cleaner. What's your name?"

_Name_. "I Hoa."

"What?"

She caught sight of a flower, growing on a hummock nearby, and pointed.

"Ah. Flower. Yes. Whatever that is, in your own gibberish. What is that – a poppy? Well then... Coquelicot. Yes, that sounds fine." He waved a hand in the direction of the animals. "Go make yourself useful, Coquelicot."

She was being dismissed. With a quick bow, Hoa – Coquelicot – ran to Binh's side and patted him.

Frightened voices shouting in rapid French filled the air. She was pulled away to face the tall man. He sounded agitated, talking in sharp tones and gesturing towards the bored-looking tiger.

Perhaps she needed to explain. "Friend," she said, pointing at Binh.

They let her go and she went to him again, scratching the back of one massive ear. Utterly uninterested by the gaping humans, Binh put his head down and allowed her to tickle him into a nap.

The tall man rubbed his chin. "Moreau, teach the kid a few things about animal training. I've a feeling she can make us all rich."

* * *

_Hoa._

_What is it, Má?_

_You'll go to France, won't you? After I'm gone?_

_..._

_Promise me._

_No._

_... Don't cry. I'm sorry. _

_..._

_You'll be strong after I'm gone. Promise me that then._

_I promise._

_There, that's better. Your father would be proud. I already am._

_Má?_

_Mmm?_

_I'm sorry... I'm sorry I couldn't make it disappear. I didn't learn the magic fast enough, Má, I'm sorry._

_Má? I didn't mean to make you cry._

* * *

Coquelicot had another talent, besides her friendship with animals. She could heal their injuries by wishing it; she could make bright light shine and everything would be made better.

Her family's magic was special, but it could not save her family.


End file.
